


Ragged Edges

by icarus_chained



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Anger, Desire, Ficlet Collection, Insanity, M/M, Prompt Fic, Violence, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Tony Stark. Free fall, scars, frost, dance, future. Anger and desire on the ragged edges. (5 ficlets)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ragged Edges

**Author's Note:**

> Five ficlets prompts. And again, this pair is somewhat ... edged and glittery, for me? *ducks sheepishly*

**Free fall**

Stark rose into the air before him on wings of metal, and Loki snarled at him in savage jealousy. Even in the midst of free fall, each time, every time, Stark found a way to fly. Loki, flung helpless into void, could only find means to crawl.

 

**Scars**

Every time he saw it, Loki had the urge to pull it from him. To reach into the human's chest, grip hold of the blue thing there, the foreign thing, the monstrosity, and pull it from him, slowly, inch by tearing inch. It would kill him, of course. Watching Stark, watching the blue burning, Loki wondered if the human ... would find that worth it, regardless.

 

**Frost**

The truth was a brand against him, a wrenched burning, and Loki lifted blue lips in a snarl, caught beneath the spell of revealing. Stark, seeing him for the first time as what he truly was, the monster beneath it all, only lifted a lip in turn, either smile or sneer, Loki could not tell which, and said: "Could be worse. Mine is blood. And metal. And just a touch of death."

 

**Dance**

There was a trick to this. A game, a deceit, a web of lies. Dressed in courtly illusion, in this gaudy hall where panic spread and his enemies clustered close around, Loki prowled beside the human, step for gliding step, and grinned with perhaps too much truth when Stark glared at him beneath ash and a ruined suit, and stepped as savagely and as confidently back.

 

**Future**

The future had ceased existing in a fall of stars, and a brother's hand, now false, fading into the distance behind him. The future had stopped when Loki died, and he had not regretted it since. But Stark ... Stark was the future made manifest, an ever-present hum of _potential_ on the edge of the senses, the future on the cusp of falling upon him. And for all it enraged him, terrified him, repulsed him, there was yet a part of Loki that ... _wanted_.


End file.
